didja ever? hunh?

didja ever get the feeling that something Huge was coming? (no- aside from Uncle Morty for sedar). something Really Important...a shift...a change...a new way? i've been fidgety and uncomfortable for months now and really have had no clue why (other than the obvious)...but this felt more...hmmm...i don't know how to explain it. then today i had a few blessed moments of peace to myself on the deck with a cup of coffee and a cigarette (yessss i know) and in the midst of bodily pollution, i had an epiphany so sweet and brilliant and gentle but so stunningly clear. it made me ashamed for a moment to be on the deck polluting my body when such a wonderful gift came from Somewhere That Cared, even as i desecrated the temple so to speak. and i realized in that lightening bolt of a moment that art and i were about to have a paradigm shift. actually, we're going old school...back to when i made art for fun and bliss, rather than to prove to a particular person that i was relevant and the real deal. back when i just did it and whatever happened ...happened. and the sticky thing that is true, is that i never cared one way or the other if i was making money from my art or just making art...i had set my life up so i didn't need to depend on art as a way to survive ...so i could just express myself and be free in it...and not worry about galleries and commissions and stuff like that. last summer i determined that i did not want to be a fulltime artist again just for that reason. and i stopped the semi-madness that i was creating in my life and heart. but i didn't stop the part that still wanted to prove something to that one person who should have mattered most...the person who should have cared either way. and i bought into the lie i told myself that i needed to do that, and then i could go back to being more authentic - to over-abuse a term. so this morning at 6am-ish, i just stopped. and the relief was amazing. and it energized me immediately. and i said, oh- so this is what you've been trying to say all along. and i got busy in my studio for an hour of bliss. and the hands and the heart and the spirit re-remembered how very cool it was to work together, rather than each being off in their own worlds. and it's not that i'm quitting art, per se, it's more that i am re-balancing life. and i have a sneaky suspicion that that Next Big Thing is right around the corner as some stars have lined up. so my dreams? the ones i've set aside for pointless hours with glue and metal and solder and wood? the KitaBear Respite House...that one. that needs some attention. and i do believe it may happen sooner, now that it has my attention again. it is all just so good and tasty. L.

i've been up for hours...pacing the deck...taking care of the usual morning stuff - feeding animals, letting animals in and out and in and out...and trying to come to terms with some things that have brewed stronger than my coffee. an old aquaintance has been living here as a guest for some time now, and it really truly is time that they leave. but how to make that happen without destroying the good parts that they bring to life? for every yin there is yang...every seemingly destructive thing has a part of it that is good and needed...you hate getting a shot, but it provides protection against disease...that type of thing but deeper. i have stared down depression and come to an agreement with her. i have worked around chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. i have come to terms, for the most part, with my changing middle-aged body and cut myself some slack in the Barbie department. but my long-term houseguest is much more deeply entrenched i suspect: fear. and time and again she has shown herself to be a liar...holding up the magnifying glass to show a pouncing lion, when it's really a cuddly kitten. fear does have super-powers though. i look around my studio, or visit friends, and see my artwork and am astonished sometimes that it's from my hand. i remember being in the moment that i created it...the zone..the blissful moments when the divine inspiration flowed. and now i have 3 incredible opportunities presented to me...and the concentration and decision-making and flow of grace - poof. since i KNOW i can do it, and would normally have finished these pieces in a snap, i had to step back and ask myself why not now. a little fear - a little edge - is good. it's a great motivator. but once it gets stuck on a hamster wheel in your gut, it has the power to stop you cold. and that's where i am. i have ideas swirling in my brain. i yell Pick One...just Pick One. plan the work and work the plan. but as i begin on one, i fear it won't be good enough or say enough or convey what i hoped or look amatuerish or...the list is endless. just to finish anything right now would be a major undertaking. perhaps the problem is that i've spent every waking spare moment (and a few on the doze) in the studio...staring at these half-hearted half-started projects. perhaps i need sensory input of other sorts in order to channel them through my vision. perhaps i need to cut through the mess that keeps whispering that no good deed goes unpunished...that the more i want something, the more unattainable it will become...coming closer each time to the goal, only to have the rug pulled out...the charlie brown football syndrome, i call it. did he ever learn? every time lucy held that football, he'd get running up to kick it and blammo - she'd pull it away at the last second and he'd be flat on the ground again. but i guess the lesson is that he did indeed keep running up to that football. if Charles Schulz was alive in front of me today, i would ask him to Just Once let charlie brown kick the fuck out of that pigskin and launch it through the goalposts touchdown game over he won. just to break this evil spell for the rest of us. so i apologize if it sounds like i'm whining...i'm not. and i don't feel like a victim, and am not looking for pity. i'm just working it out here with my fingers on the keyboard. both of them, having never learned to type properly. i don't know if it's a lack of...or too much of. i suspect too much of. i have ideas galore...enough to fill an etsy store - buy one! i see the finished piece in my mind. but to start means a committment to an idea and a process and what if? i repeat a mantra I Am Capable Of This as i pace the deck, once again scaring the neighbors...i ritualize my studio experience with a particular song, and some incense...i stare at my art supplies and threaten to throw them from the second floor windows and use that space for a nice recliner and plasma tv. and invariably they hear this and cackle back at me. i feel guilty sitting at the computer as it takes time from the studio. i get in studio-mode and suddenly remember i never called gail back to explain that the one-second call from my mother ended up a full drama and i didn't think 11pm was an appropriate time to re-call so i better shoot her an email to tell her so she doesn't think i'm an ass. i know though, come monday morning at 6:15am when the alarm goes off, i will have creativity and urges coarsing through me like St Elmo's fire. and as the clocks tick on the delivery dates for these projects, i am becoming more landlocked. send the coast guard. oy...enough introspection. any deeper inside and i'll turn inside out..oooo now there's an idea for a sculpture. and by the way...you may have noticed a lot more typos, and i apologize...this new computer has a spanky keyboard with the number pad on the right-hand side, and it just screws up my orientation. i am tired of backspacing, so if spellcheck doesn't catch it, i just don't care anymore. i realize that to the writers out there this is akin to petting a cat against the grain of fur growth, but cut me slack here. ok - back to pacing. L.

art trade

i am trading in art. i will be organizing my own religion: Linduism. it will be a fun religion without guilt or shame. and we will have cake. please let me know if you're interested, as i need a head count before i decide to throw my art supplies out the window as i travel 55mph down RT 81 and head Somewhere Else. it has not been my favorite day, artwise. oh the mannequin is doing fine...except for throwing a molten piece of plastic at my lip, so now i look like i have a major case of lip herpes. but that goes with the turf when you're wielding a power tool. can i say how much i heart my dremel?? enough to say "heart." the pseudo-dremel i was using was no comparison. and with the universal chuck, i feel downright butch. i just had The Viewing...pictures sent to me from the gallery of my piece in pieces. actually, it didn't look that badly damaged, which made me wonder how un-wonderful it was when i sent it. kind of like "well, how do YOU like your new haircut," kind of thing. of course, i only saw small areas. but i wonder if they were aware of how badly damaged my pieces look when they AREN'T badly damaged? which led me to the conclusion that perhaps beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and i am really nearsighted. see, i can't do "pretty." i tried. really. and those damn pink fairy wings of death are the closest i've ever come...to suicide. my soul spews out the junk in what i call Post Traumatic Assemblage. i get chills over rusty metal and weathered wood. anything copper is a delight to my eyes and i must own it. i have to have something to say when i make art, even if the message is not apparent to the beholder...it is to me. so i had invested a big chunk of that voice in this piece, and actually was able to let it go off into the world. and it was actually supposed to end up as a gift. then some ass of a fedex person threw it on a belt thingie somewhere and now....well you know the rest. and i'm done with that part. now to wait for a reply to see if the gallery people think it's salvagable, and if so - plan a trip to NH for a weekend. there are worse things. and maybe this religion thing will work out better anyway. i am not an upbeat enough person day-to-day to fit into the art world, i suspect. i am like the lemony snickett of art...things happen to me. they are Things That Only Happen To Linda. like molten plastic flying off a dremel at warp speed and striking the inside INSIDE i tell you of my lip. i am a walking disaster zone at times...like the cloud around Pig Pen in charlie brown? that is my weird zone. my life is a rickety zen circus. and so that is why i feel qualified to begin my own religion. i understand. i have probably been through ANYthing you can experience, so when you come to me for counsel, i will shake my head knowingly (and snicker under my breath) and know how to advise you. i will offer penance in the form of pedicures and weekend retreats in wonderful places. (TBD). the only sin, per se, will be housework. and believe me i have not visited that particular sin in some time. i could go on and on here, but a religion has to have some mystery, so trust me on this. it will be very cool. i need a logo and an icon now. and a tiara, i think. most religious leaders have some sort of headgear. well...see there...it's working already! i feel much better just THINKING about Linduism. maybe i'll offer a special deal for the first 10 communicants or something. hmm. tempting. peace be with you. L.

do not tell the amish...

kicking and screaming, i have joined facebook. i don't know why...i have no clue what the etiquette or rules or purpose is of facebook. i am a lemming. i figured i needed a new way to feel insecure...i mean, are you judged by how many people friend you? what if no one friends me? and what if they do?? i barely have time to return emails and post here. i have a naked mannequin in front of me, a constant whine about not enough art time, last year's birthday present for angelfriend staring at me, a piece of art that got delivered to NH in, well, pieces, a gypsy woman on the west coast who persists like a terrier with a bone PERSISTS in waking me up at dark o'clock, and a dog with potty issues. it's a full life. but there i am. on facebook. i would have thought that i was available by phone, mail or email to anyone who cared. and vise versa. and when i joined, i had a million (give or take) people just waiting for me to friend them. i have no idea who some of these people are. am i obliged? will it hurt their feelings? and my name isn't even right because apparently i started to fill out the form before and said nah, but it registered anyway. does that make me a fake friend? my head could spin off and take flight right about now. and now i see a friend (in real life) on there has a different last name again and i thought she was just going to visit the guy for a week. for the love of God. and what about old fashioned mail?? the feel of the paper, the handwriting, the sensory goodness of a letter or card...i got a card in the mail yesterday, and i swear to you i giggled...someone took time to find this card, write a note in it, put it in an envelope, find a stamp, and mail this to me...because although they are busier than satan at a strippers convention, she knew it would make me giggle like the ice cream man just dumped his inventory on my driveway. i just carried it around for a while without opening it...just savoring it. i know - i am a dork. and that is why you like me. so i am apparently attached to the entire world electronically like 6 degrees from kevin bacon, but honestly, i almost crave the days of the 5-cent phone call from a real phonebooth. i'm going back to my own world. there is safety in geometry. i'm going back to square 1. someone grab my frye boots and tie dye. peace. L.

free association

...because not much is free anymore....i need your thoughts...post or email them to me please...when you think of "cage" what comes to mind? (besides Nicholas)...a prison? safety? a cozy place to cuddle? think of the structure...the think of what the implication could be....talk among yourselves. then tell me. i am re-doing miss mannequin. i was almost done, and went kanoodling around the web, found a video by a BFF and LO! there was an eerily similar idea. hers, of course. now, i don't remember seeing it before (hell, i can't remember the first line i just wrote) but i know i MUST have seen it at one time. so...i begin again. and i have a trillion ideas that i want to bring to life, but they keep coming back to a similar (yet different than before) theme. so help me whittle this. plus, i want to know how far from center i really am. and as a bonus for helping, i won't regal/bore you with the incredibly horrific day i had yesterday...it set the bar for horrificality. L.

update on the mannequin...please hand me the flamethrower. i am seriously thinking of trading in my art wings for something more practical and less frustrating....like, maybe doing call-in horoscopes and fortune telling. i mean, Miss Cleo is still doing time, right? maybe I could nudge in on her corner a little. on the way to my Lake, I pass an ice cream stand called Cleo's...i figure it's like the Ice Cream of the Future that they sell at the fair. hmm..maybe i could do Margaritas....yeah - Karmaritas. brilliant! by the time people figure out it's a plain old margarita, they'll be plotzed. okay. perfect. now...to order glassware, an apron, and does anyone know how to make a margarita?

i did SO just spend 45 minutes here. you will too. just wait and see. and read the descriptions. hoot!

it's hot. very hot. and very humid. and this morning i became incredibly frustrated that my spanky new Universal Chuck wouldn't screw onto my dremel. much profanity ensued, destroying any zen moment of peace in my studio. finally i said "Shut The Front Door" to my inner Tim Allen, grabbed my dremel, and the Universal Chuck and headed straight back to Loews to make THEM do it. there was a woman working in the tool dept...refreshing. she looked at it for, oh, maybe a nano-second and advised me that the dremel UC is the only non-Universal part. do wah? it seems that, in bold RED letters on the side of my rotary handheld tool, it says Ryobi. der. no - double der. oy so now what?? i hate to admit it. i bought another handheld rotary tool that says dremel on it...rather, Dremel. Queen of the craftsperson's tools. and it was right then and there that i realized i still had more lessons coming in patience and trust. chill runs through my body. those are not easy lessons for someone with an alphabet soup of chemical persuasions running through them. sigh. but i love hardware places. little mom & pops, big huge chain stores...anywhere where there's a smell of lumber and sawdust and shiny things to captive my eye...nuts, bolts, doohickies that do god-knows-what. if Stacey & Clinton showed up at my door and told me what not to wear, i'd say You Are Right. now, where is Ty Pennington. it's no secret i have a thang for him. not just his cutedtude, but his tool-itude. and as i wandered through the aisles, eyes glazed, i realized that i have once again outgrown my studio. so, as i hunt for more spacious digs, i must still work here in this configuration, so today is organization day. my usual M.O. is to just go buy a bunch o' organzation-type things...i keep sterlite in business, although i don't like the plasticy asthetic. it makes sense though, when you're trying to corral a ton or two of greasy, rusty metal. and my tools are all over the place. or i should say WERE all over the place. they now have a little spot all their own...a niche that fits the tool organizer i bought exactly. exactly. as if this niche was just waiting for this specific organizer. i am teary over this. i tried organizing my metal stuff, but that is confounding...small, medium, large?? rusty, non-rusty?? nails, hinges, doo dads?? but oddly, i have a mental inventory of everything (somewhat) and kind of know where the part i need will be. maybe-ish. and that is close enough for me. so if you need a not-a-dremel tool that works perfectly fine but will not accept a Universal Chuck...let me know. because i do not have room for 2 of them. i needed to step away from my mannequin project...i did something to it last night that i've been debating over. i just did it, finally. and i hate it. and it's a big hate...like a start-over-almost hate. it stands in the middle of my studio, so i have to look down and squeeze around it in order to not look. but i won't. i'm giving it time off for bad behavior, and will look again later. ok - break time's over. time to round up the ratchets. i'm feeling all zen-like again and sipping some incredible tea. note to dremel: rename the mofo part...it is not Universal...one size does not fit all. like many things in life and my closet. L.

click it. i'm still speechless. talk among yourselves. i'll give you a topic authentic vs. authenticity...which is harder?

regarding friends

first some housekeeping: the dog still smells...the house still smells...the cat has been renamed houdini for his uncanny ability to open large sliding doors to gain access to the world. now for the friends...through many circumstances this summer, i have chosen, or been forced, to think about friendships...what makes them tick...what makes them wonderful...what makes them change. i have been blessed with some incredible friends...male & female...and certainly not out of anything i've brought to the table this past year...and i hope that each person knows how very much i cherish them...it has been a difficult year to be my friend - the constant drama...the physical challenges that knock me down...the fight back up that creates a determined frenzy in my bee bonnet...and yet, for the most part, you understand and accept these things as "me" and sometimes even more so than i accept them of myself. some friendships have cooled, others gone away completely, and these are like a death that grips me with deep mourning, even though it may have been a mutally agreeable handshake. let me explain that i fight each day to get out of bed - the constant pain from fibromyalgia and the memory loss and fog...the comatose fatigue from CFS...throw in a sprinkling of migraines and of course, a little neurosis and it's a cocktail hell-bent on destruction from time to time. now, i don't tell you all this to invite you to a pity party, or play victim...it is what it is. but rather to say that it is a challenge being myself at times, and i recognize that it is a challenge being you trying to be a friend to me. and yet you are. you see all that stuff, yet don't "see" it...you see "me" and for that you get a gold star and the deepest love that i can give...my heart is yours...my hand is yours...for you have made me strong just by being my friend and by knowing when i need to go slow, or stop for a bit, or kick it into gear like maybe there is no tomorrow. so this is sounding a lot sadder than i intended...my intention was to say that i am amazed by you...your accomplishments...your strength...your life...your expertise at high hurdles and evasive maneuvers...and for what it's worth, you have my undying loyalty and friendship...i will be there for you two-fold...you can call on me any time...you are my friend. simply put, yet complexly practiced. thank you. L.

nature-gotta love her

so the thunderstorms have been loud and violent. that means diva has spent quite a bit of time under the bed or in the tub hiding. 2 nights ago at 2:15am, there was a break in the action...no angels bowling...she wakes me up to go out, since she hadn'y peed in a while. she made her way across our fenced yard to her privacy potty area, and i walked across our deck (4" off ground) to trip the motion lights in case a possum or God-knows-what is out there. as i made my way to the corner, something caught my eye a moment too soon...PPPPFFFFTTTT! stinky cat a/k/a skunk. i am covered. diva, sensing excitement...er - smelling it, actually, comes tearing across the yard. without thinking, i shuck off my befouled bathrobe, and grab her before the little striped bastard can reload. husband hears the commotion and comes running downstairs ...a spotlight in one hand and a Ruger in the other. (read back a bunch o posts - i live with a hillbilly). so there we stand...in the backyard of a very upscale (til we moved in) residential area...naked...stinking...and him with a gun in his hand...me hissing "don't shoot it" and all of us with tears running down our faces, courtesy of a very small, VERY stinky skunk. i run to the downstairs bathroom with diva, who has a residual stink on her by now, and begin a process not to different from Norma Rae in that famous scene from the movie. husband sits outside, still naked, waiting for the thing (skunk) to show itself and meet it's maker. 5:30am, back to bed for a few more minutes of sleep before manic monday. husband finally comes to bed, but now he stinks...the humid air held the droplets of skunk spray and they are clinging to him like a scared kid at nursery school. our house, having finally recovered from the dead-thing-under-the-fireplace smell, is now hazy with skunkstink. AND and we cannot open the windows because..yes...it has begun to storm again. i was glad to go to work. i kissed the ground, the very unvacuumed carpet, when the computers crashed at 3pm, and i was able to leave at 5pm like everyone else, rather thnan 7pm like...oh, just me. do not come to my house for a while. trust me. today is tuesday. i am hoping to have left all that behind me, and promise not to forget and wear my rain galoshes to work again today. L.

some done - some in progress

The Longing

Music by David Newman, sung by Mira...Radhe Suite I, The Longing....Lake by God

here's a brain teaser for you...why is it that when an artist has a momentary blockage, they doubt themselves as an artist altogether? ok - let me rephrase that...i am wondering why, when i have a day in the studio that's much less productive than i'd like, why do i begin to have self-doubt that inspiration will ever return? no, let me rephrase that...why did i take a day off work to stare at a mannequin that may cost me $1800 to ship across country and not glue, nail, burn, cut or otherwise schmutz it up? nada. and why, i ask rhetorically since i know the answer, do i then wonder what i will do with all these art supplies and rusty metal when i (once again) give up art entirely? tomorrow. gotta love mom for her stick-to-it-tiveness..."maybe it's not meant to be." which re-flamed me. after listing all the famous people who failed many many times before hitting the Big One...Thomas Edison, Ben Franklin (invented the $100 bill AND the five-and-dime store), my personal hero Albert Einstein, after listing all these people who surely must have goofed up once or twice along the way to creating light, and relativity theories, and all other manner of important Thought, she said, well i just hate to see you waste a good day off. i am caught here, in this parallel universe. it's like a mork and mindy thing sometimes. i wonder at times who my real parents are. and if, indeed, i am from that genetic stock that can simmer down the sauce to it's simplest form, to create a beautiful reduction from the most complex ingredients, why then do i insist on fighting the inevitable? why don't i just sit on a scratchy plaid couch on the porch with Jesus on the 8-track player (volume 11) wishing away all the sin i encounter? why do i fight that? is it inevitable? should i just let it all go now, and save myself years of potential Big Thought? not like Thomas Edison, Big Thought, but a thought bigger than myself, perhaps. just give a huge exhale like i've been holding my breath for 52 years...a huge WHEW and as i exhale, i am suddenly wearing lavender stretch pants, a sensible haircut, rockports with arch supports, and a large gold-like cross around my neck. it would be like the nutty professor, in a way. so here i go ranting, and you know i'm only half-kidding...i love my mother, and i accept that she exists in a world of her own creation where it's safe and dependable and anything that wrinkles that is from satan. apparently, i am frequently satan's puppet, but not as much as when i was younger. so there's that to point to and be proud. i could just go on, but you'd think i was making most of it up, so i will stop here. and besides, it doesn't seem christian to shine a little light on the woman who is grandmother to my diva dog...the only person other than myself that diva has never bitten. dogs know things, AND they have a Red Phone to God. i'm betting on the lottery tonight, so i don't want to piss Anyone off. and i'm hoping diva can put in a good word. i tried doing that animal communication with her...god knows i was able to figure out my first husband...a dog shouldn't be that much harder...but i can't figure out how to translate "lottery" into terms a dog would understand..."many many many good girl bones and toys and no kitties but lots of bunnies to play with," just hasn't worked. so there goes that career. and to be honest, Cesar Millan has that market pretty well cornered. is he not highly attractive? as is his wife. i'm just sayin. oy bad dog. so i wish i would have paid better attention in misty's class last year, because i could sure use some help on this design element for the aforementioned million-dollar mannequin. i may just shove her in a coffin (the mannequin - not misty), say she's my aunt, watch as they respecfully load her into the cargo hold of the first jetblue outta here, and set my watch back a little on my way out to the west coast. and unless the plane goes down...my "aunt" will arrive in 1 piece. so that's niggling at me too. i know i'll pay out the snout for shipping. i knew that and planned for it, so it's no surprise and i don't care. it's just that there are only 50/50 odds that she will arrive there in the same condition that she left in. oy...and then there's the return trip. good lord. hopefully there won't be a return trip. i'll have to talk to the dog about that too. ok then goodnight. L.

so here i am...another wednesday off...it's a legal day off - i took a personal day to rock out on some art that's been facing me down. diva went to gramma's for the day...car is in the shop for inspection...cat is lazing on the upper deck...it's all about me. and 1000 projects that all need completion at the same time...a mug of Bengal Spice tea perfumes my studio, mingling with Jai Uttal and Loreena Mckennitt... last night i realized i still had to name my september show, get postcards printed and mailed and and and. oy. good oy. an eagle flew over diva's pond this morning...beautiful...graceful...divine...powerful...left over from last night's magic when we took a chance on mosquitos, coyotes and a stray bobcat, and walked over to the pond just as dusk was closing it's eyes for the night. a huge fireball in water was mesmerizing...reflecting a hazy, huge orange full moon...a fish splashed in it's turnaround and diva sat staring at the water, a huge, contented sigh. the air was charged with freesia from my neighbor's garden...making it's way through the trees to us...an owl hooted a call from the west waiting till it heard response from the east...above us bats flew silently, dancing above the treetops then dipping low toward the water...nature's night crew punching the timeclock...it's good...so very good...to connect with the earth again...

smmmmack down

ok so wasn't it just yesterday...or earlier today (who can remember??) that i showed you an image of the front exterior of my mannequin?? wasn't it? somebody say amen, yes sister. okay. well...fuggetaboutit. my muse: la la la la oh beautiful music la la hear my gentle voice la la HEY! YEAH YOU! just STEP aside already move back get away SIT...are you NOT listening? are you NOT?? oy vey for the love of yeshewah go go now. ME: huh? der? Muse:not like THAT! like THIS...this is what i've been saying if you clean the potatos out. Me:oohhh....oooohoohoo (kramer-esque). followed by rip rip tear scrape printer printer printer. Muse:and put some music on...Prince, Mary J, get the brain moving! ** so, needless to say, please disregard the other image. it will be a hanging collage, not to fear. i love it. however, the new & improved exterior of the mannequin...well, it's spankier and fits the message a lot better. who knew?? nu? oh and by the way...no bad kitty....actually, dead wild things. they crawled under a space from the outside that goes to the inside under our fireplace. and died. i'm glad they trusted us and felt safe enough with us to spend their final moments with us, but i'm really pissed off that they did. this will be must more involved than a simple carpet shampooing which seemes laughably like a day in an ice cream factory compared to what may now need to be done. i can only hope the neighbors don't goad you-know-who into a DIY project. L.

okay - i just wrote an epic post and it's GONE. just the image remains. so i'll just tell you that the image is a sneak peek of the exterior front part of my mannequin. i'm too ticked off at losing the rest of this to go on, so goodnight. Linda

i live in an ammonia factory. i opened the door to the house yesterday and almost needed to call 911. the cat...this is the good cat, mind you, had spent the day amusing itself by urinating on any surface that it could straddle up on. it has been hot. and humid. and the house has been closed up. i cannot begin to tell you how little i am enjoying this cat right now. so now saturday will be spent dragging a Rug Doctor around. and if it reoccurs sunday....kitty will be going to the spca. i regret it...don't like it. but cannot live like this. i am willing to time my comings and goings around diva's kidney clock, but to have to worry about the potty habits of every living being in and around my house is just way more intensive than i have time for. i have asked everyone - even strangers on the street- if they want a cat. this is a very good-natured cat. he is lovely and i bonded with him. but. and if the spca is full, then i will freak out. this spca, by the way, doesn't have a clock ticking for death row. so...for real ...if you would like a kitty, now is the time to step forward. i have a feeling it's an alpha thing with diva. cats rule, dogs drool...that sort of thing. my house is difficult enough to come home to without feeling like we should replace the doorknobs with flush handles for a toilet. i'd say i'm pissed, but that would be a very bad unintentional pun. maybe ebay....okay kidding. so...anyone? buhler? Linda

good lord i'm old!

when, i ask, WHEN did i become my mother?? it was way before i wandered the street downtown with my yoga instructor on one side of me and maryann on the other as i tried to remember where i parked. my mind was blank. as blank as it was 30 minutes previous when itried in vain to remember my PIN number. i worry about alzheimers. in these moments, an icy terror grips me thinking about it. clare, ever the namaste one, asking me "what do you remember seeing right before you parked?" " a no parking sign." this wasn't going well. i would have to wait till every last person left downtown to find my car. then THEN today i get a forwarded email from a girl i went to high school with, and worked with in radio briefly. where is Linda? she asks. our 35th high school reunion is next year and i'm on the committee. 35?!? since when did they skip over the 15-34th ones? i cannot possibly be going to a for-real 35th reunion. and the only person i'll recognize will be Willy, (now William) who i had a mad crush on from 7th - 9th grade, and is now the manager at the gi-normous grocery chain store where i shop, and often looking like i was just dredged from Onondaga Lake (the nations #1 most polluted...Go Syracuse!) and trying to skulk behind the mangos till he walks past. once in a while i take some effort in the contact lens and mascara dept and wear an actual outfit, then go to that store for no other reason than hoping he'll see that i'm not some hopeless mess of a former classmate. usually it's his day off. you know how there was always That Girl..the one who taunted you or beat you up or stole your boyfriend or some other hideousness we girls visit upon each other when we are young and haven't learned to posse up...you know, THAT one? why, i ask, why am i always similarly dressed when i see her? not that i even care or remember why i feel all furious when i see her, but why am i always in the midst of some embarassment? it's so true what they say - that you have to get over your 7th grade self before you can become the self you were meant to be. 7th grade was killer. i'll never know why 7th grade. but it was. and it seems to be a shared experience . maybe it's a hormonal thing. who knows. that was the year i became a rebel, mostly inside, because i wasn't sure what to do with my thoughts outside. so it was a delicate balancing act. with a few tips. so, i ramble here. but anyway, as if my 50th birthday didn't get me thinking about age, and the end of the trolley ride...now THIS ...this reunion thing. oy. i have no idea what to wear. L.

i am just so tickled with how everything just falls into place if you don't panic...just breathe...and listen...and wait. there is a time - just the right time - for everything to happen...for each thing to happen. i am a panic-er from way back. a trait inherited through my fathers side...fear and panic. i have worked hard to remove those useless and exhausting traits from my life, but it's like trying to clean goop from the carpet sometimes. like in the ghostbusters movie: "he slimed me." that kind of nebulous goo that you think is gone, but then you feel a tiny bit sliding down your earlobe, all cold & nasty, and you go Uh Oh...missed a spot. so anyway...i made a concerted effort to identify and ignore or work through or work past or leap over fear or panic when i see it starting. and did i mention i have elevated both to a professional status? when people ask, "what do you do for a living?" i could answer, "well, i have a PhD in fear and panic, and i've been in practice for ___ years." so THIS time, i didn't panic...i knew the answer would come and it did. so now i have to get off this f.r.e.d. and get to work. so see ya...don't worry, be happy. Ok - now there's a perfect example, if i may stay here a moment more...could you just slap the smug off the guy who wrote that song?? BUT - he has a rags-to-riches story that makes you go, Dude! good work, my friend! making money from telling other people to relax. so very ingenious. so very positive outlook. i mean, we could all be humming a whole different tune if he decided to say F-it...this is too hard & scary and i'm going to flip burgers...or be a crackhead...or whatever he decided. i'm fully caffeinated and should just shut up (about 1 post ago no doubt) so bye. L.

this video just says it to me. and then i got to thinking about dreams and wishes and realities and lies you tell yourself and fears and stopping yourself before the light turns red or letting someone else stop you (which is really the same thing if you think about it, it's just the finger points the other way) and steppng into space without a net. and today i had long overdue conversation with gailwhonevercalls. first let me say that the conversation, or this post is in NO WAY pointed at sweet jengray. not even a little. it was just her video that started a chain of thought that led other places. we got talking about how some people put up a facade of "everythings groovy" and it's all peace and bliss. there's nothing wrong with peace and bliss...in fact, show me the line, and i'll have an extra side with that, please. but our convo centered more around the ones - you know who they are - who seem to know how to tell everyone else what they shou;d do to succeed, and every note or blog post is from candyland making you think that maybe you are just the losingist grumpiest glass-half-empty person on this green earth. (and yes, in case you wondered, i AM procrastinating my project right now). but to only share the good, great, better, best is not fair. there a few kinds of blogs...those that are more of a way to advertise your product, service, etc, and direct people to your etsy shop or ebay listing. another is more of a meeting place for people with similar interests. another is...well, you get the idea. there's nothing wrong with any of them, not that anyone asked me. i don't know how to explain my point (and i do have one) (for a change)without a good friend thinking i mean her. i don't - this is in general and not about ANY one. just because you have a blog, it doesn't mean you have to open every secret door of your life. but to bar the doors, and make it seem as though it would be just so easy for me to have your success simply by doing xyz, well, that's like saying God didn't heal someone because they didn't have enough faith (former former church) or something equally absurd. so many voices these days yelling "caution" and an equal number pushing and begging people to "follow your bliss." i believe the truth resides somewhere in the middle, and is at a different place for each person. everyone has a different tolerance for risk, and a different tolerance for mediocrity. i currently live a mediocre life. i'm aware of it. i embrace it. there are huge swatches of brillance that will slam into it and trail through like the tail on a comet. then i need a rest. and when i say a mediocre life - not as in a sadly under-optioned existance barely taking breath. no - i mean i live in a way that i would like to change, will change, but am content with for now, knowing that i can build what i need to get to that comet-tail of a life, or i can choose to take a leap at the galaxy and grab the shining end of it. my tolerance for risk is not what it was 20-30 years ago when hitchiking was a perfect means of transport if you were unable, for whatever reason, to properly operate a vehicle yourself. or borrowing mom's car to go to a party lakeside in a foreign country (well, canada) with a bunch of drunken hockey players. no. i have those stories and memories to have and hold, but when i'm dealing with my real grown-up life, i need to see a bit more fine print. so although i HAD a point, i went off on a transient tangent as usual. okay - my point, which may or may not still be pertinent - don't tell me to grab my fairy dust and take a leap at my dreams when you are secretly living off a trust fund that allows the same risk that could potentially send someone else to an attic apartment recently vacated by some crackhead in a part of town that isn't even on glossy maps at the gas station just an area marked with a skull and crossbones. am i an optimist? yes i truly am. cautiously, like my uncle samuel. i just don't feel like i know what's best for YOU, so if you ask, you may get a reasonable answer, or an uncle samuel shrug. so back to the blog thing. if i gave advice, which i don't, i would say be careful what you take in. do what feels right for y-o-u...what rings true for you where you are right now. read some fine print. if you're 20-ish, forget everything i just said and take a flying leap at your dreams. seriously. i mean, if not NOW, then when?? for godssake - you don't have a mortgage or credit card bills up the ying yang...no kids grabbing your paycheck. good lord - just re-read this post and you'll know why NOW is the time. before you get old and grumpy. or satisfied with mediocrity striped with greatness. grab it all and demand more. fill your basket and wish you brought a wagon. now go - take a leap. git. L.

btw

My friend Holly has opened a gallery with 12 of her closest artist friends...Grand Opening this Thursday 5-9....right on E. Genesee St in Skaneateles...overlooking the lake. worth the trip, i assure you!

I am an artist. I am a woman. I am a wife. I am a friend. I am an employee. I am a homemaker, though a somewhat distracted and disinterested one. Whiter socks and perfect piecrusts never really troubled me. As I thought about the different roles each of us plays throughout their days, their lives, I realized how the particular role sometimes requires a particular mask…to hide the authentic, the true. And why was a mask worn? And what effect did that have on the authentic and true? Did it wear down the deepest desires and Creation sense of Self? Did it seamlessly blend and incorporate the different facets? And was that dishonest, or just the way things were expected to be? Or the way the person is comfortable? And how did that ripple out to those contacted with…to become frustrated with them for seeing only one facet of the person, when the mask worn was too heavy to see through…and do people see what they want, or expect, to see - then stop looking for more? Witnesses to a crime will often tell widely varying accounts, often based on their LifeStory. When asked to describe a personal friend, it’s interesting to hear or read the different labels or personality traits that each person remarks on…one saying the person is quiet, the other describes a funny, gregarious person, yet another mentioning the organizational skills, and yet again another remarking on artistic ability. All the same person…different faces shining in different lights. It was interesting to feel my reaction when a couple i had known since early teenage-hood decided to divorce. I saw them as a couple. There was no Jack...and Joan. Just JackandJoan. I guess I hadn't "seen" either of them after all. And I felt betrayed and a little unsettled by their decision. They were the "last married couple in America." If they had gotten their unhappiness past me, what else hadn't I noticed? And else hadn't I cared to notice? Haven’t we all had times where we “felt” like an artist, or “felt” like a traditional homemaker or fill-in-the-blank? Then the next day…completely different. Except for that core of the authentic and true Self. So then, is the mask a part of the authentic and true? Or does it exist to hide? If it is to cover, is it in shame, or in protection? So again, the questions hang…what is true…what is authentically you…are you peaceful with your masks - your roles - or do they rattle at you in the dark? Do you long for someone to dig deeper…to look past the outward appearance…to find You? Or are you content…covering and preserving and protecting…You? There are no wrong answers. You may begin.

i swear i was taking an extended break, but stuff keeps happening and if i don't share, i'll explode. i was just today offered a 1-woman (me) show in september! i am so freaking excited! between that, and my diva coming home from Camp Grandma, i am feeling some bliss. a much needed respite. tonight i went to this very cool church - the Vineyard - with my mom. the music rocked the house, the people were very cool, they have a free snack bar at the back of the sanctuary, just in case you get hungry...who knew. so anyway, one of the associate pastors was preaching (although it was more like teaching - no brimstone or yelling SINNER!) and in the middle of it, he stopped and said "there's someone here that is hurting very deeply...you feel battered and bruised and exhausted. peace and rest to you." then paused and went on teaching. boing. so, posse, i pause along the trail, in front of the campfire, pink cowboy boots on, and a good smore going. soaking up the atmosphere before the sun gets too hot and the duststorm picks up. good night. peace and rest to you. L. PS...go here WHOO HOO!

my mantra

Guide And Provide.

TTFN

hey y'all...i'll be taking a break for a while. please keep in touch. catch ya on the flip with my shiny new life. Linda

study hard

i feel like i am being tested. physically and mentally. well, the mentally part - nuff said! I am CERTAIN....positive, i tell you...that there is a hidden camera & microphone a la Alan Funt (google it if you're under 40) in my cubicle at work. there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that the people who called me today - every single one of them- no way that they exist for real in nature...that they are roaming the aisles in the grocery stores and gas stations looking (possibly) just like you or me, with 1 head and eyes (left & right) and opposable thumbs. no way. no how. because a different breed of complainer hit my phone today. not from this earth. from some other terra firma and they had a direct line to me. i normally seem to attract people from the fringe, shall we say. while i'm trying to ramble my way through the grocery store at nascar speed, someone will pick ME out of the entire store ME and begin somehow to weave their life story into a can of lentils. Lentils?! i do not know from lentils. and i cannot bear your story mrs. lentil-buyer. not this day when i left the windows open and it's about to rain and i hate to grocery shop because then i have to cram and pack it all into my car then drag it home and unpack and uncram it from my car while not letting the dog and cat out and then re-pack and re-cram it into the fridge and freezer and cupboards and in an hour when i remember the potato chips with the jalapeno seasoning they'll be gone and eaten by friggin locusts dressed as stepchildren. in a nutshell, that is why i feel less empathy for lentil lady than i probably should. but back to my day at work. at first i thought "uh oh" with the first FORTY MINUTE drunken tirade. who i ask who can even over-drink THAT much by 10am??? AND she was calling from arizona so it was God knows what time there. telling me ME i'm a crack ho. after i repaired the burst vessel in my head, i took the next call, and i swear to you, she made the first caller seem like someone i'd take to the symphony. i cannot believe, by the third call, that someone i work with is not behind this. i look around, waiting for someone to start snickering and say HA HA. because this is something i would do to someone else. and have. except the crack ho part. but no. this is for real. and only the beginning i discovered quite some time later. the only saving grace to my day way that i had to go to the bathroom. so i logged off the instrument of slow death and went to the ladies room. now i forgot to tell you that while i was enjoying my Dunkin Donut supreme omlette with sausage and real-ish eggs and not on the english muffin i ordered, but on the croisant that the "chef" felt was a better flavor combo, no doubt, BEFORE my work day officially started, i decided to see how bad my inbox was. bad mistake. i was getting kicked around like an emotional pinata and not even officially at work yet. just dining in my cubicle. and the whacker was none less then the VP who had somehow gotten it into her pretty little head that i was the reason we were being sued over something. ME. so i spent the better part of an hour relaying that the incident in question never not ever had it crossed my desk. not even an "oops sorry." so when i decided to go to the ladies room, it was as much for refuge as for relief. so, you know how there's a small little space where the hinge attaches the door to the divider thingie, and if you look (even though we all pretend we don't) you can almost see who just walked in? maybe just a flash of color. well as i was about to assume the stance (which i'll cover another time, but you ladies all know the Public Potty Stance of which i speak), i hear footsteps and see a flash of pure white. no - not God, or an angel...the VP. i have no desire to meet up with her 1 on 1 in the loo with no witnesses, so as soon as she shuts her stall door, i am OUT OF THERE. i can hold it longer than i think. so the day more or less escalated itself till it fell (flopped down in exhaustion mostly) into a steaming heap of itself at 7pm. and i think it got a piece of me. i'll fight back for it tomorrow. meanwhile, i had the most crazy-wonderful convo with my home slice Momma J and she is one special person, i must say. puts the P in perspective. (which reminds me - in case you worried...i snuck down the hall and used the executive wing bathroom. they have the softest 2-ply. i scream Unfair!) so don't forget - smile, just in case you ARE on candid camera. L

this quote tickles me: "...like chasing a dancing muse on roller skates..." from Cheryl Costa, playwright and Very Cool Person. man, i'm making up for lost time here. L. (and YES you doubters...i am making art....just waiting for some glue to dry)

holla for challah

my tribe in the hood...oy turn up your speakers...take a load off...here have a nice piece of fish now wrap your head around this. rappin rabbi....say hey yahoo MATISYAHU

good morning!

are you awake yet? i've been up for hours! the cardinals woke me very early, since the West Coast Gypsy is recovering from travel. a glorious morning with a gentle breeze that promises rain later. i love being in my studio with the sound of rain outside. of course if the angels start bowling, i have to watch my step, with diva wrapped around my leg like it's a Titanic life vest. a little yoga on the back deck, a cup of coffee to balance out the goodness, and a small list of tasks to accomplish today...clean my car out (it looks like a library blew up in there), work in my studio, start downloading my pics and tunes. actually, those are the to-do's for the weekend. i'm not going to push and squeeze too much in. which reminds me...shop for new pants. if you haven't emailed yet, please do soon..my address book got wiped and that's why you haven't heard from me. i'm dying to tell you how wonderful you are! (so i''ll take a second here for a personal message...my queen! we must rust this weekend!) okay back to it. here, this is for you: Wild Geese You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-- over and over announcing your place in the family of things. © Mary Oliver.

still no photos transferred. sorry. still diggin this new computer though! it has the number keypad on the right hand side, making it easy when i do work from home, but a little strange when i reach for the "L" and hit 6 instead. i won't bore you with the blow-by-blow of the week, but it has been a week. incredibly good things and some of the saddest moments...all wrapped into 5 days. so it ends on a mixed note, but all-in-all, not so bad. the yoga is taking effect again and i'm feeling that Warrior woman come back, along with the centered peacefullness that's been lacking. it's showing in my work at the Big Girl Job, and in my studio. i feel myself contented and smiling much more than in recent weeks...has it been that long? so i re-made a promise to myself to start walking again. alone. i'll still give diva her props, but i need that alone walk to process and de-stress and inhale and feel my gratitude...smell the earth and the trees and the late-blooming trees...touch the rough bark of the shag maples and listen to my hawklettes in the nest, now too big and should really be out on their own. a theme. as much as i want to stay up and play in my paints tonight, i expect a very early wake up call, and a full day of plaster and process, so it's an early wrap up. when did i get so boring?? broseph:...i heard a rumor, youlikeemeet. good go! good luck! call you never call. oy. now off to my howling wolf dog. and dreamtime. meet you there. xoxL

eclecticy

i'm getting to know my new computer, and i must say i have a crush on it! when i save an email address to "contacts," i can add alll the usual stuff PLUS a picture of y-o-u! very nice. i've recovered and transferred everything but my pictures so far. (this one came with the computer...just thought i'd dress up the post a bit).oh and just realized i have to burn all my itunes to disk, then tranfer them and de-burn them to the new home. then sync. at least that's how logic is taking it. which would be fine if my old computer had disk-burning capabilities. which it doesn't. i think it just died of embarrassment, actually. oy. so up and coming is the Arts And Crafts festival downtown. i look forward to this almost as much as my birthday. almost. and the reason why, is that this is more like my New Years Eve than January 1st. why, you ask? well let me tell you. first, and most excitingly, is that i have a standing date with my famous living poet friend, Georgia. i won't bore you with gushes of how wonderful and important she is. but she is. and i WILL gush elsewhere in another post (again) but will lose my train of thought if i sidetrack here (all these train analogies). second, because it is a marker of my year. where was I last A&C fest, and where have i journeyed to as of this year? what have been the good things? the bad? the still-need-work? the completed? accomplisshments? comfort zones crashed through? and on. something about being surrounded by all that art and smells of food and wildly creative people and just wild people...it calms me enough to focus and think a thing or two through. and buy some spanky new art! as i've mentioned in previous years...it is impossible to get through this wonderland quickly, when traveling with Georgia...she KNOWS everyone and Everyone knows her! she makes more frequent stops than the mailman, chatting endlessly with people. this is in no way a complaint. i have met some of the most incredible people during this day, and stretched my imaginings of myself. it was during one of these festivals that i "became" an artist...with proper introduction. (and much verbal beating later for squirming under the lofty title). and many plans, intuitions and thoughts gel during this day. not to mention how nice it is to just be outside, enjoying art, with one of my Most Important LifePeople. it is where, last year, i decided to quit smoking. and did. this year finds me smoking again, but quitting again. so for this i am happy. today i plan to get plastered on my deck in my pj's. actually, i'll being laying down another layer of plaster for my mannequin, and have an old cutoff pair of pj bottoms i wear to keep mosquitos & plaster off me. i love kidding myself! so hopefully i'll have some pictures...i'll cajole Georgia into taking a few hopefully. be good y'all. and send up some love to another M.I.LP of mine...sing a silent chorus of Dancing Queen (ABBA style) tomorrow at your leisure. wink-nudge. Linda

YIPPEE! my new computer is spanky! i never realized how slow the other one was til now. of course, i feel a little guilty, like i'm cheating on my old one. it's sitting on my worktable right behind me...shhh! the only casualty of converting, copying, etc was...my email address book. soooo...please drop me a quick email, just so i can re-get your email address. unless you'd prefer i don't email you, then FINE. happy 4th y'all!

Happy IndepenDance day! a day early. i mean think of it...the courage and planning and Everything it took to travel to the unknown, and create a new country. i'm glad to have been born now, and not then. so, here i am procrastinating. i have 3 projects going, and 3 full days to work on them. an early wake-up, into the studio and painting some little gifties for my bunkmates upcoming. today's agenda includes attaching a leg to a mannequin, which i'm delirious about. i have had more fun leaving that thing under a table, sticking out through a partially closed door, and hiding in the freezer. i've had a job offer in Portland, OR and am thinking hard about it. the job itself would be somewhat killer in demand hours, but it would be a nice transitioning step. i have time to decide, and am their first round draft pick, so it won't slip away unnoticed. there's another one in Washington state. same job, different location. what's with the west coast pull lately?? yes - i know, still typing as a way of procrastinating. works well! we are now a 1 dog, 1 cat household. i miss rocky and worry for him. but it seems much more peaceful, and the workload is decreased by quite a bit. i think there's a lesson there for me about holding back a bit and giving space. my new boss has finally felt comfortable enough with me to totally and outrageously buck upper management and worked it so i can go to yoga! i love her. so i went wednesday, with gummifriend staying late for me. cried the whole way there, spilling open with gratitude and realizing just how dry my spirit was getting. the yoga greasing those old bones, as it gently centered my spirit and calmed the chaos. i cannot express how much more i become "me" after an hour of yoga. i don't understand it, but don't feel the need to dissect it. it just IS. it makes me want to breathe in the colors and textures of life, and reconfigure them into art as i breathe out. to be intensely aware of the sound of the breeze as it sways the leaves. to stand here and catch the heavy perfume from the blossoming tree, then step away a few paces, and it's gone...picturing the scent traveling a pathway through the air. this is what yoga does for me. this is food for my body and my spirit. and even just writing this has finally lit the burner to get busy with my leg. so a very happy IndepenDance day to you..in all it means. xox Linda

and another thing...

we all have a short-list of people we'd like to meet, don't we? some famous...some not. some serious...some funny. and some...well, there's just no explaining it. one of my "no explaining its" was Billy Mays. don't know why. just did. and i just got the newsflash - he died. no, he didn't discover a cure for anything...never won a Nobel prize...i don't even know if he was a nice guy or not. he was just...so enthusiastic. and ya can't fault a person for that. the world of infomercials will never be the same.

what could be better than an early sunday morning (Early!) on the deck...steaming mug of coffee...ipod playing Grand Mantra...making art as the sun just begins to yawn and stretch...a quiet walk with my freshly laundered Diva sending wafts of baby shampoo around her and looking proud with her pretty pink bindi...an afternoon at My Lake with terns diving and waves rolling in...heart shaped stones...a perfect lakefront property with an unreasonably low price...pan seared yellowfin tuna with lemon dill and spring mix greens with raspberries...a mug of decadent Tibetan tea...as the rain begins to patter a tune on the roof now, i ask you - what could be better? unless you were there to share it with me....L.

i had a conversation recently with a dear friend. she's an incredible artist. has a brilliant career. against all odds, has raised The Cutest, smartest child. i am in awe of her ability, throughout her life, to have overcome, gone around, plowed through and just plain disregarded obstacles in her life that would knock most of us down. she never "got up and dusted herself off" because she refused to let whatever it was get her down to the mat in the first place. so what did we talk about? loneliness. she feels lonely. her marriage and career and family are wonderful. but she feels lonely. we women are wired for companionship. specifically, and despite other relationships, companionship of other women. they are our support system, our sounding boards, our Life Posse. only women understand women. and it isn't just humans. in the animal kingdom even, when the going gets tough, the "women" of the group will band together to fight off an intruder, protect, feed, care for, find shelter...whatever needs getting done. even if that species is not normally a community-minded group. the men of that same species will attempt the same tasks, yet solo. this is not a male-bashing post. my point is that we women, no matter how fulfilled we are in our day-to-day, still need the company of other like-minded women. notice your most treasured friendships. whether they be the once-a-year phone call variety, or the twice-a-day check-in type. within those closest friends, there are elements of ourselves. or elements we wish to mirror. but the friendships are equal...each getting the portion they need from it. and back to my original thought, i couldn't believe that someone with such a busy day, and with so many accomplishments to point to, could possibly feel lonely. but i realized the truth in her words as she explained that it was the gathering together with people cut from the same mindset...women that you didn't have to explain yourself to...women that understand the end of your sentence...who will nuture and cherish the friendship. there are times when one person may need a hand up - and maybe quite a lot of the time. as compared to the other part, who is able. each offers from their heart, however. and i realized how special we women are...how wonderful it is to be able to gather together and get the work done...whether it's Heart work, or Housework, or just plain laughing and talking over steaming mugs of tea...or holding one another till the tears subside. we women. i am thankful and filled with gratitude for all of the women i've had as role models, and friends, and more. i thank God for them, even though i know it's not fashionable to say "God." those golden threads cast around the world make a beautiful net. i thank you for being my friend, and hope i can be a better friend to you. L.

my gift to you

Just Go Here. prepare to be stupified with great harking laughter. you're welcome.

i'm not quite sure what is shifting under me...what is making my balance unsteady...but it sure packs a whollop...and today, it slammed me to the ground, then picked me up and dusted me off and (just for effect) did it again...how many 20-minute moments did i spend sobbing in the ladies room - who knows...starting my day with my husbands question "so have you called a lawyer," should have warned me back to bed for the day, but no, i pressed on furiously...tenacious as a terrier...curiously determined to make it to work on time, with or without mascara running down my face...it was, of course, the wrong choice...when everything in me was quietly telling me to be gentle with myself today...so i sobbed through the morning, took a late lunch, which included sobbing in the deli...that actually was kind of wonderful all-in-all, as Sophie and the grandma's came around the counter in their roast beef streaked aprons, all hugging me "what's wrrrong hooney? is a man? i tink a man? only a man could make for this cry." which of course made me cry more and want to be part of their big hugging family. the granddaughter works the checkout ...she's 30-ish, gorgeous, funny, and wonderful. and after 5 years, knows my life story. mostly. she took 1 look at me, all snotty and puffy, and said "husband or stepson? never mind. i keel both." that got us laughing and snarking...talking about the new special of the day, etc...luckily i had paid when moments later "our song" came on the radio, and i beat feet before i started all over again. so discombobulated. then i walked in the door at home, and felt i had made the right choice. just like that. just like the whole chaotic day had not happened. just like when one of my favorite patients called just at the right time "i may be a toothless waitress with a 5th grade education, but that s.o.b. is mean and i left him." that favorite. i told her that she deserved only good, and that she was a wonderful and strong woman. that tickled her. then, just because it was that kind of day, i gave her a free set of dentures. because i can. and because she deserved a hand-up (although she's doing pretty damn good on her own). she started crying...you guessed it - i started crying. i can't wait till the listeners-and-scorers hear that one. so my friends, it isn't really a pity party...just a little turbulence. now, i think an early lights-out is called for. and maybe a sick day real soon...heed the call to be gentle with myself. you do the same, now. L.

outsider art?

...maybe a different sort....this morning i loaded up my sewing machine, yarn, tubs and baskets and more baskets of supplies, and took it outside. there i've been since 10am-ish...the sun warming my shoulders and back, then creeping around to the front...inspiration through my ipod in one ear, and a persistant cardinal in the other. jeweltones under my fingers as a magic cloak takes form. lest you think i'm procrastinating...oh no my friend. just working out the back kinks with a brief cup of tea, a smidge of a sun salutation and a quick note to say hello. looking at marlene's video brought tears to my eyes...an unexpected lump in the throat...the wishing and longing kind. i expect something very different and very much the same this time, as i have changed since that day...that trip down that dirt road still chokes me up, with the going away part. i feel geeky almost to have this one thing that feeds me so. you must think i have a very little teeny life. in some respects i do...not so much teeny, as refined through fire down to the essential...people that i love fiercely...things i long for in ways so deep and profound i know them to be true...the sight of my diva's little belly and how her tail wags as if to make her airborne...these are irreplaceable and all mine...all different levels of my candybox of savorings, yet i honor each with a gratitude and knowledge that so much can change so quickly. my tea is finished, my sewing machine waits impatiently, so i say good afternoon to you...you are most precious to me, friend. know that. L.

yes hello..it's me procrastinating. well, not so much procrastinating as reworking...trying to keep the monkey mind occupied with 1 hand while the other hand stirs the creative stew. yes - the mannquin. i just don't like what i have worked up. so i unworked it and will begin again. the problem: 3 different ways to go with it. i must re-focus on my intent for the piece, then let her go about doing what she wants anyway. a local gallery owner tasked me with creating a piece (a few years ago) that was an homage to his long ago relative. she grew up as caretaker of her siblings, parents, aunts, and eventually died, alone, in a nursing home, having never left the small town she grew up in. her story touched and intrigued me. it all started when the gallery owner...wait - backup...the gallery is in a huge HUGE ancient building that dates back to the 1800's or early 1900's and was a factory of some sort. upstairs from the gallery proper, are floors and floors of studios. one end of at least one floor is a giant storage area. now back to our story. one day he let me wander through the storage area (hundreds x hundreds big) to look for rusty metal. as if i had to look far. but then in a small locked room, were Things. he let me in the room, and it appeared to be leftover props from shows, but no - it was actually some of his family's old furniture, etc that was being stored there...50's couches and 60's chairs...and a suitcase. i was in my suitcase phase at the time, so this caught my eye. i asked if i could have it, and he said he had to ask another family member downstairs (i didn't realize this was family stuff yet). seemed odd, but i said ok. that's when the story of this suitcase, and it's owner came to light. the other family member said a reluctant yes, because the gallery owner had told her i was going to do a piece about the suitcase's owner. i was?? there were amazing, magical things that happened with that suitcase, and how the family history came falling into my lap from bizarre and miraculous sources. i wasn't even looking into it that much, but everywhere i turned, there was someone who was from that tiny tiny town and knew the history, or a postcard featuring the town found at a gigantic antique show...it was spooky cool. but the piece wouldn't come. too much of a real person to try to capture. so i kept the suitcase on a shelf for another time. fast forward a few years. the mannequin project. and after rough mind-sketching, and beginning parts of it (that remain) i realized...i was making the piece the gallery owner had somewhat commissioned. she stands in the suitcase. and the rest is a big secret for now. subject to change anyway. i spent part of today doing a "hair" weave on her a la Hey Girl salon downtown. not sure if it will stay, but have decided never not ever to get a weave personally. ouch and who can sit that long. when i need to clear my head, i walk diva, or go meditate in my closet. diva has been walked to within an inch of her life and runs under the bed when i come near. so i guess it's time to get into the closet. speaking of which...can i just say that i attract some of the strangest people to me? it mostly wonderful, sometimes a little scary, always enhancing, but why me?? i don't think i look anything like someone who has all the planetary connections to help mankind. in fact, most days i am not quite public-ready...racing to the grocery store from 5 hours in the studio - eyes glazed, half shot from caffeine, glue and plaster and paint in my hair and all over my clothes. i would run from me if i saw me. and yet. maybe they think i need a friend and the best they could come up with as an opening line is "can you reach the bisquick i have to make 200 biscuits for this funeral thing well not really a funeral more like a celebration of a life but if the persons gone then why do they call it that you know and i just don't know why i got into catering...." etc. 1 breath - 1 hour. while you wait. buckshot conversation. while i nod at appropriate times as if encouraging and empathizing. once - i pretended to speak a different language and tried to tell them i had no f-ing clue what they were saying. they continued. louder though so i'd understand their english better. oy. although that did work with the person trying to sell me Sprint phone service. they called 3 times. THREE times during dinner. THREE times in a half hour. so i finally pretended to be the senile grandmother visiting from China. "ello?" i repeated after everything they said. interspersed with an approximation of what i thought perhaps sounded somewhat similar to maybe Cantonese vulgarity. which is not a language i speak, nor have ever heard, to my knowledge, but maybe. the man on the other end became frustrated yet amused..."can you hear me now??" he finally asked. anyone knows he stole that from verizon. so i finally said "you vera bad boy" and hung up. no more sprint. but meanwhile, i feel like i could burst from being a human secret warehouse...people i've never met just...tell me things. my secret-keeping ability wavers. if it's very very important that i keep the secret, i will. if it's moderately to not so important, it will find it's way past my lips. i can't help it. i mean, i spoiled my own surprise party by telling myself. (i had somewhat planned it, control freak that i am, and let my husband think he did it all). ( but it was glorious and wonderful in all the ways that are impossible to plan.) and i can't help but let a few slip because i just have too many inside me. years as an investigative reporter and as a woman have filled me to the very brim. i am a levee near high tides...some day someone will just drop one too many secrets on me, and BAM! i'll just sit down wherever i am and spew out everything i know. EVERYthing. it would make an amazing and embarrassing performance piece, this verbal diarhea, but it's like holding back tears - once they start, there is just no stopping them till they are done. so all that said, i've lost my train of thought which is good - it means i can get back to art now. but i leave you with this: The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice-- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But you didn't stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do-- determined to save the only life you could save. -Mary Oliver my inspiration for my mannequin piece. now there's a hint of a secret. L.

ahoy there! check this out!

my dentist - who is an artist - told me about this place...so very cool! i hope he wasn't suggesting i need a bath. naw. it was started by an artist, who refurbished a 100+ year old barn down a dirt road off in the middle of nowhere. and the place is always packed, he said.

so, i'm not sure what's up with this...this morning, i felt like i had a choice: church or flea market. the only reason why this stands out as a "one of these things is not like the other" kind of day, is that i haven't been to church-church in Many Years, and in fact would fear structural collapse of the building, lightening, etc should i attend at this point. so for the sake of the other Good People, i decline all requests. so it struck me odd that with all the infinte choices before me on this beautiful sunday, why "church" would even make the hamster wheel. so off i went to the flea market, armed with leftover vacation money, and a fairly clear idea of what i was looking for. a box a certain proportions. 2 hours later, i left. not with a box, but box after box of religious articles. mostly catholic. i have been "mostly" a lot of different religions in my life. catholic was never on the list. never got to it, i guess. so Why? i asked myself. oh - and also a huge, incredible bag of correspondance between a local (apparently) deceased (apparantly) reverend, and a younger girl who bore him a child. Rev. Baby's Daddy. when i say incredible...her letter to him saying she was pregnant. a covert letter from her aunt with a picture of the child. a leter from Family Court asking that he be there, or: rev or not...here we come. a subpoena i think is the official name of the document. Baby's Momma returned a birthday card he sent, unopened. i was the first to see the greeting. no cash inside. always a disappointment. and the lamest card you could have found, in my estimation. i mean, a woman has your child, never goes public, and all you get her is a lame-o card? to be fair, comparing postmarks, the card arrived 2 days before the court papers were sent. perhaps she was equally as disappointed. word to the wise...when you care enough, go Hallmark. the baby is now a grown man with his own family, no doubt, with the last envelopes dating in the late 80's and newspaper pictures of him doing good things in school. Godspeed to you, Baby K. so why the strong religious attraction today? don't know. i have statues and statuettes and mourning cards and medals and rosaries and missals and 2 creepy crucifixes. maybe that's why i never went catholic...the whole crucifix thing is scarier than a 1920's baby doll face. the very first thing that grabbed my attention by falling on my foot, is this metal thing. yes - it always starts with metal. it looks like a stained glass window without the glass. i picked it up and put it down 3 times. the vendor came over and said he thought i was meant to have it and could give it to me for a buck - a full $3 off the asking price. unheard of...no bartering. so that got my attention tweaked a little. i wondered what to do with it, but had that excited little feeling that this was to be part of an epic piece. like i need another one. and that's when all the religious memorabilia began throwing itself at me. i mean, i have a serious load of stuff. and spent far far less than anticipated. like $20 for all this stuff. and that included a genuine pashima wrap, hand beaded and sequined in India. never worn. brand new. no teapots. so i can't wait to see what story is trying to tell itself with all these goodies. oh - and Mrs. Walker, the psychic, has a booth there now. i almost stopped by, but felt the soft pretzel calling me harder, and spent my money next door to her. have you ever gone to her? i interviewed her at the State Fair one year. when i was a reporter, every year we had to do endless State Fair stories throughout the event. one year, we had a contest with real cash prizes. who could come up with the most original story. so i interviewed the psychics at the Fair, to see who was the most accurate. the handwriting guy...the "romanian gypsy" woman who looked more italian with makeup than romanian, and i would know... as a bonus, i interviewed the "Ice Cream of the Future" guy (those freeze dried dots - Dippin Dots, yeah). and asked him which flavors gave the best predictions. he looked at me like i wished i had a camera instead of a tape deck, and said "it's ICE CREAM, lady....just ICE CREAM.' thank you for the "lady" part, i said, but then i don't get it...isn't this psychic ice cream? Ice cream of the FUTURE?? he became patient, figuring my dad owned the radio station or something. and explained in incredible detail about Dippin Dots. that was in the early/mid nineties. i still pee myself every year when i see the stand selling dippin dots. oh so and Mrs. Walker was there. i was upfront with her about who i was and why i was there, figuring, as a psychic, she already knew. she's just like someone's old Italian aunt. with a vibe. she said some interesting things, i admit. and some did come true. so when i saw her today i thought i'd say hi. but the pretzel caught my attention, and true to ADD form, went for it. so anyway, i'm off to figure out this rosary thing. i'll be missaling you! L.

i am

sometimes i'll grab a minute or 4 and look back through some of my posts, and it sometimes amazes me. sometimes i don't recognize the person who wrote it. sometimes i think someone stole my passwaord and wrote a post. that person sometimes sounds so ungrateful, so shallow, so out of touch with what is essential. sometimes i want to delete the post, lest someone else read it and think maybe I am totally absorbed with myself and every little drama that wisps past me. but, ah, it's out there already. so i wondered how i could feel so detached from that person, as i read some of those posts...how could i not feel that those writings belonged, somehow, in my blog? and i realized that yes, for better or worse, those posts are a part of me...they are the story of a heart and of a spirit as they grow...as they feel beneath the cover of earth for one another and graft together, then break through the ground into the sustaining sunshine...from opposite ends of my garden come the yin and the yang...the wild child weed and the cultivated rose...belonging together to create a whole...each part needing the other - one for strength and stamina and perserverence to get through the hard crust of earth...one for softening the edges and providing beautiful fragrance to those passing by. lately, i feel the graft taking hold more and more...not having to feel that being Earth Mother is mutually exclusive of being silly and so-called immature. each are true and authentic...each are respectable and acceptable. i have a friend who's a Tibetan monk...he is titled "Venerable." i think it's time i, too, feel that title for myself...not in ego or boasting...but in acceptance of my self as the person i was meant to be...no less than those i have admiration for, it's time to move past comparisons and wonderings. and just be. i am. i AM. I am....all those things and a few more and a few less...but just exactly what i am supposed to be. i will allow myself introspection. and i will allow myself silly, shallow moments, as always. but i think i will just Be with them and stop trying to figure out which is more correct or more "me." they are both part of me, and i know i have been comfortable with that, deep inside, for a very long time. i just didn't know it was okay. so i guess, half the time this blog is for amusement and entertainment as i go through my I Love Lucy-like life, and the other half is Mantra-momma. and when i figure out the bigger questions, i'll be sure to let you know. L.

making up for lost time i guess

yow...just how many posts in a day?! so here's the thing...what a crazy world this has become...i grew up in a time of rotary dial phones..the biggest deal was a pink princess phone...then a pushbutton phone! 3 channels on TV (on a good night) all black & white...with rabbit ear antenna covered in tinfoil on top...am radio...transistor radios swinging from 1-speed manual pedal bikes...the ice cream man was not a child molester...anyone's mother could swat you if you misbehaved...mrs. smingler regularly turned the hose on us for being loud...we spent days out playing kickball and baseball and dodgeball and hide-and-seek and mermaids in the pool...we dressed our barbie dolls and played house and slipped down hills on flying saucers in the winter...cars had air conditioning called 4-50 (all 4 windows down, 50 MPH on the highway)...they had cigarette lighters AND ashtrays...no one wore seat belts except very short people like me and that was to hold them on the phone book they sat on in order to see over the steering wheel...you could call someone a doodyhead and not get shot...weed was something we pulled from the garden when we were grounded and had to help mom...fast forward a few decades and i have a cell phone and a computer and 3 color TV's and air conditioning, of course, at the touch of a button in my car and in my house...i have faxes and call waiting and call forwarding and ipods and digital cameras...and a Tibetan monk asking me to be his facebook friend, and the Dalai Lama on Twitter QOTD: "Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck." ~His Holiness, the Dalai Lama...and i have to wonder sometimes........

in the spirit of being good and kind and gentle with myself, i have an announcement: fuck the etsy store. (can i say the F-word?) It has been a non-stop stream of aggravation for me to get this together, and the whole thing behind it is of the release of negativity. so. there i said it and i just feel good enough about it to actually now make it happen. so amuse yourselves and look at the pretty pictures in the next post. i am going to smoke. Linda

ok i promised pictures....

From the Delavan show...Nuno felted "Flow" artfan, Dreamweaver the Crow art i forgot i made: broseph graduates..lost dog cafe gasp! is that Peter Frampton?? who HAS this much time?? a car made of legos...life size The sign says it all...found on a bridge in Boston...a bridge: Boston whale watch it was THIS close i tell you!

rules for living

there are (at least) 2 undeniable rules of life...1) cats are fast, and 2)plaster is messy. combined, these 2 rules spin off an entire list of others. i spent the day working on an element of my super-double-secret project, which involved quite a bit of mask making. and this was such an interesting activity for the cats, i found myself saying "NO!" more than a kindergarten teacher in a Catholic school. of course, NO to a cat means "check back in a minute and see if i really meant it." cats and teenagers. same animal. as the finished masks were drying on the deck, the crows then took a keen interest in them...friend or foe? they cakked and cawed for hours, with the audience growing in proportion to the number of masks, it seems. i have learned another rule of life...knowing FULL WELL that i despise the feel of grease on my hands, i decided to suck it up and make a casting of my hands. i started on left, slathering vaseline on it, fighting yarkitude. began wrapping plaster strips, and realized i would be wearing this for a very long time...no way to get it off. der. so quickly regrouped and shucked it all off, following by relentless, ocd-like handwashing. no hand cast. and i'm okay with that. and because i had to stand guard on my plaster, water, vaseline, mask set-up, i couldn't leave to get to the loo. sweet lord. what would Jesus do? i asked myself. no answer, so i dragged the cats in with me...just to be sure. now i'm sure YOU would have thought of this, but in my bladder-weakened state, it never occured to me just what fur+vaseline would equal. i looked like the werewolf and then worried what would happen when they decided to lick this junk off. THESE ARE NOT MY CATS. and yet. you notice no mention of diva. she was such a good girl, sunning herself for a while on the deck, then napping inside. g'ma came by to take her around the woodspath, which is like a daily trip to Disney for my girl. i feel guilty for what gummifriend no doubt had to deal with today without me at work, but sometimes ya gotta do whatcha gotta do. and today, for me, that was not work in a cubicle. normally when i feel the need for a sick day, i make myself make a list of what i will accomplish if i stay home. today i gave myself a fritter day...just fritter it away in any form i felt like. and i ended up accomplishing quite a bit. my sculpture is coming along good...with the general story/concept rearranging itself and gelling more. (mostly it's me understanding what it wants to say). i'm in the zone with it and it feels good, and it feels right. how to ship it? oy. who knows. there's time to figure that out. does it really do any good to label "this end up," or do shippers consider it a challenge to see how many OTHER ways up they can make a thing go? time for some stretches and tea. my back reminds me that it needs rest.